The 67th Hunger Games: Ambition
by Boredboredboredbored
Summary: Sixteen year old Sara Brier is a genius who is going to attend a Capitol University once she finishes high school. However, when she's chosen to be in the Hunger Games, her and her family's dream is over. At least, that's what she thinks. Will Sara be able to beat the odds and come home a victor? Or will she be one of thousands of teenagers to die in the games?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games**

 **District 8 - Sara Brier**

The birds outside of my window wake me up with their screeches. I look around my room, vision blurred by sleep, and remember where I am, and what day it is. I'm in my bedroom, and it's reaping day. Perfect. I stretch and get out of bed with a sigh. If I was a normal kid, I'd have a day off school. But I'm not normal.

At the age of 7, after multiple IQ tests, it was discovered that I was a genius. Immediately, my parents pulled me out of school and hired the best private tutor available in district eight. They were so happy that they had a daughter who would (apparently) follow in their footsteps and become wealthy and successful (at least, as wealthy and successful you're allowed to be in the districts).

I was significantly less happy than them. Because I don't go to a normal school, I know hardly anyone my age - I have zero close friends - plus, I'm with my tutor for 10 hours a day (which doesn't allow for much free time), and today is no exception.

I've been instructed to get ready for the reaping as soon as I wake up, and I'm scheduled to have 3 hours of lessons until the reaping. The reaping will take around 2 hours, but my parents refuse to let me miss out on two hours of learning - so I'm going to work two hours later tonight. I can't wait(!)

I expect you're wondering why my parents are so obsessed with my education. If I'm already a genius, then surely I don't need to work as hard as other kids, is probably what you're thinking. Well, it's because of the Capitol. My parents have connections in the Capitol because of the business they run - a lot of the clothes they manufacture are transported to the Capitol to be sold in shops over there. Over the years, they've built a large following of loyal clients. One of these clients was informed of my intellect, and happens to be a professor of one of the most prestigious universities in the Capitol. He asked the higher-ups if, on account of my intelligence, I'd be allowed to attend the university.

What followed was a months-long court case, that caused a lot of controversy, but which was eventually approved. If I keep up my current grades, me and my family will become fully-fledged Capitol citizens.

Now you can understand why they're so hell-bent on giving me a ton of tutoring. I don't blame them, of course. I want to be a Capitol citizen too - I'd love to get away from the poverty that constantly surrounds me in the districts.

Ruminating on this, I open up my wardrobe and take out my reaping dress. My parents designed it themselves, and one of the reasons I'm wearing it is as a sort of advertisement for my parent's shop. Some kids would be annoyed by this, but I don't mind. More money for them means more money for me, and the dress is stunning, I must admit.

Now, I bet you're curious what this dress looks like, considering all the build-up I've given it. It's sky-blue, with a beautiful pink and white floral print covering the skirt part and the front of the top. The sleeves are made of a translucent blue material, and flow down to my wrists. Strands of flower garlands are carefully woven into the sleeves, and join together at the end.

I carefully slip the dress on, loving how light and soft the fabric is, and make my way downstairs. I elect not to eat until after the reaping - if I stain the dress in any way, there'll be hell to pay.

I make my way to the study, treading lightly on the carpeted floors. I knock lightly on the door and wait until I hear my tutor say "come in!".

I enter the study, and sit next to my tutor at the mahogany desk. My physics book lays open before me, and I pick up my fountain pen, poised to write. "Good morning, Claude." I say, smiling slightly.

"Good morning, Sara. I see you're already prepared for the reaping. Shall we begin with your physics? Now, weren't we onto the theory of Schrödinger's cat?" My tutor asks. He's in his early 20s, and has light brown hair, and grey eyes covered by delicate grey glasses. He's from one of the richest families in district eight too - a family friend.

"Yes, I'm already prepared, so I don't have to have my lessons interrupted unnecessarily. That's right, we were onto that. Let's begin."

The lessons carries on for three hours, without breaks. An alarm goes off, signalling the end of the session, and the beginning of the reaping.

I stand up, and say goodbye to Claude. My parents are at the door, waiting for me. My mother wears a dark blue dress, my father a matching suit. Wordlessly, we leave the house.

We own a car, but my parents always insist on walking to the reaping. "It shows solidarity, Sara. That we're an ordinary, relatable family. If we took the car, many people would think we were showing off our wealth, which would be alienating and ultimately bad for business. I know it's beneath us, but on reaping day we must appear equal to all the others in district eight, and since they don't drive cars around, neither do we. On reaping day, it's important not to put on airs and graces. With many people at their most vulnerable, they'll be looking for something to pounce on and blame for this country's apparent corruption. That won't be us." That's what my Father said once, when I asked him why we had to walk over an hour to get to the reaping. You can probably tell that he's very elitist - he thinks he's better than anybody else in Panem. It's one of the things I hate most about him.

After what feels like hours, we get to the reaping. At the place where parents and children are separated, we all put on a show of affection for the masses. Eyes turn to us in envy, as we try to convince the district that we're the perfect family. I smile and hug my parents in turn, kissing them on the cheek. "I'll see you after the reaping. I love you both." I say as I beam. They smile back, smiles that don't quite reach their eyes. "Of course, honey. We love you too." My Mother says, taking my hand in hers and squeezing it. Then, they turn and walk away.

I walk to the entry tables, and quickly get my blood taken. Then, I move into the 17 year old section, and stand silently, waiting. I have a neutral expression on my face, looking pleasant enough but not talking to anybody. After all. I don't know any of them. I hear snatches of conversation around me. "My parents had to put my name in 12 times this year, since we've been really struggling lately. I hope I don't get reaped." One girl whispers to a friend, tears filling her eyes.

"That's nothing," the friend says in return. "My name was in 20."

I glance at the girls, who immediately make eye contact with me. "Oh, hey, it's the Brier girl." The girl who's in 20 times says. She has dark brown hair, and wears a faded dress, second or third hand. She looks angry. "How many times is your name in?" I open my mouth to respond, but she interrupts "Don't bother telling me, I already know. It's in the minimum amount of times. Most of the 12 year olds have a higher chance of getting picked than you. My family thinks it's disgusting. Just because you're rich, and you're going to a fancy Capitol university, you think you're better than us." Her and her friend look at me with contempt.

"How do you even know that? That's confidential information." I say, struggling to keep up a polite tone. This girl's really pissing me off - it's not my fault I'm smart, not my fault my family's wealthy.

"Oh, everybody knows. It's common knowledge that you and your family can't wait to get out of here. You have all your life - that's why you only cater to the richest people in this district, and those Capitol bastards. You're gonna grow up, and marry one of those bastards, and have stupid children, and live your corrupt little lives in the Capitol!" She's shouting now, and people are staring. I don't respond, hoping her friend will calm her down. "Cynthia, stop, please chill out!" The friend begs, but this just angers the girl more. She reaches out and shoves me.

I try to keep my balance, but I topple over anyway, my shoes skidding on the dirt floor. I fall heavily, but luckily haven't seemed to hurt anything. "There. On the ground where you belong." The girl laughs and is immediately pushed away from me, back through the crowd of people, by her mortified friend. I quickly get up and dust myself off. My dress seems to be intact, thank God. People are still looking at me, but I ignore them, pretending like my face hasn't turned bright red. Luckily, District eight's escort, Glitter Dayrock (ridiculous name, I know) starts to talk.

"It's an honour to be here in district eight for the reaping of the 67th hunger games!" She exclaims, walking to the centre of the stage and shaking hands with the mayor, who looks vaguely bored.

Glitter is wearing an absolutely hideous outfit. Her dress is gold and silver, with a pannier skirt. It's covered in glitter which shines in the sun, and is temporarily blinding a good three quarters of the audience. I duck behind a taller girl to be spared from its wrath.

Her hair is dyed silver and gold to match her dress, and there seem to be miniature birds in it. Honestly, I don't understand how she could possibly go outside looking like that.

"Without any further ado, let's get on with the show!" She says, trying to evoke a laugh. It doesn't work. Not even the mayor gives her a pity smile.

She walks over to the boy's side, and shoves her hand into the bowl of names. "The make tribute for district eight is... Basil Jones!"

A boy of around 16 emerges from the crowd, and walks up the stage. He looks absolutely terrified. His dark blonde hair contrasts the brightness of Glitter's, and makes him look totally out of place up on the stage.

"Do we have any volunteers?" Silence.

"Ok. She smiles, and walks over to the girl's side. I hold my breath. The odds of me being chosen are tiny, but I'm still scared. "The female tribute for district eight is... Sara Brier!"

I stand completely still. I'm so confused. This wasn't meant to happen. I've basically received a death sentence. I was supposed to be successful in the Capitol, not die at 17 in some stupid death match.

People start to push me towards the front, eager to finish the reaping for another year. On unsteady legs I walk to the front of the stage, briefly catching a glimpse of the girl who pushed me over earlier. She's grinning. Of course she is.

I walk up the steps of the stage, and by some miracle I don't trip up. In the back of my mind, I think 'my parents are probably pleased- this is the best advert their dress can get.'

This is what's going through my head as I shake hands with Glitter and am guided off the stage and into a room by a group of peacekeepers.

I'm told to wait for my family and friends to say their goodbyes.

I collapse onto the sofa and shut my eyes, trying to block reality out but failing. I've been selected for the hunger games.

I'm dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games**

My parents barge into the room only a few seconds after I enter, faces stony. My Mother immediately rushes over and hugs me. I go stiff in her arms - genuine affection is about as rare as a blue moon in this family. "You're going to be ok. You're going to be ok." She chants, over and over. I know she's trying to reassure me, but it feels more like she's trying to reassure herself.

My Father, on the other hand, is all business. He hasn't said a word to me yet - instead, he's yelling at someone down the phone. "Mars, listen. I know this puts a spanner in the works but if she wins these games, my daughter will be fit to attend your university."

I hear some muffled talking on the other end of the phone.

"What do you mean, damaged goods?! That's my daughter you're talking about! If she wins the games, I promise you she will be fit to go to your university. I know some of the victors have gone a little crazy in the past, but Sara's not like that! She's strong! Look, I have to go. I'm saying goodbye to her now. I'll call you back."

My Father puts down the phone, and approaches me. "Honey, we've got this all under control. I've just been on the phone to Mars, the professor at the University. I've convinced him that if - when - you win, you will still be able to attend. Isn't that great!"

I can't believe this. Nothing is 'great'. I've been given a death warrant, and all my Father cares about is becoming a stupid Capitol citizen. He can't seem to understand that I have no chance of surviving the games. None at all.

"No, Father, it's not 'great'. I'm going to be dead in a few weeks time. There's no point in you calling Mars. No matter how much you beg, he's not going to admit my corpse into Panem University!"

The room goes silent. My parents both look like they've been punched in the face. Even the peacekeeper guarding the room looks shocked at my outburst. My Father, who was standing still as a statue, suddenly moves forward, so we're standing toe to toe. He lifts his hand and slaps me across the face.

My head snaps back and my face turns red. I'm completely shocked. My parents have never hit me before. I turn to my Father, and he yells at me "I forbid you from dying in those games! We're going to become citizens of the Capitol by any means possible!"

I laugh then. It's a harsh, bitter sound. "Oh, so you can forbid me from dying? So if I'm in that arena, and one of the careers comes up to me with a knife, I'm going to be able to say 'sorry, you can't kill me. My father won't allow it'?

And they're going to say 'Sorry, I forgot about that. Here, take my knife'? That's never going to happen, and you know it. At least, I hope you do. If you don't, then you're even more stupid than you look."

My Father's face goes stone cold, as emotionless as he was when he first entered the room. "If you're so intent on dying, then go ahead. You're not my responsibility anymore." He turns and leaves the room.

Now it's just my Mother and I. She looks at me, tears filling her eyes. "I want you to know that what you said to your Father was extremely selfish and childish. I'm disappointed in you, Sara. This is difficult for all of us, not just you. Our move to the Capitol is in jeopardy!"

"Im, sorry, Mother, if I'm acting a little out of character. It's completely unreasonable, I know. It's not like I've just received a death sentence, is it? I know this is difficult for you, but it's worse for me. I'm the one who's going to die. Not you. Once I'm gone, why don't you just go to the orphanage and foster another little genius? It'll only delay your move to the Capitol by a couple years. See, there's your solution to the problem. You can go now."

My Mother actually begins to cry then. She grabs onto me and doesn't let go. But I'm furious. I make eye contact with the peacekeeper and say "Make her leave. And tell them I'm ready to get onto the train. I'm done with my goodbyes."

The peacekeepers follows my orders and moves towards my Mother. He grabs her by the shoulders and rips her away from me. My Mother tries to fight, but she's too weak. She's dragged out of the room, screaming my name. I shut the door in her face.

I sit back down on the sofa, sighing. I feel kind of light. Carefree, almost. I know this is a ridiculous thing to feel, but I've just unloaded 10 years of anger onto my parents at once. Your parents are supposed to love and support you, no matter what. Mine didn't do that. They just used me for their own personal gain. I'm glad to be rid of them.

When the peacekeepers arrive to escort me from the room, I don't struggle. I walk out of there with my head held high. The male tribute, who's in the from opposite, does no such thing. He has to be dragged out of that room, kicking and screaming. I have to fight the urge not to roll my eyes - if he cares so much about this district, why is he wasting his energy now? He should preserve it for the games, when he actually needs to use it.

The train station is only a short walk away. The Capitol seems to have decided not to spring for a car. Basil and I walk, in a way, side-by-side. Well. I walk. He's still being pulled along. People from the district gather around to watch us go, their faces silent screams.

I decide to put on a show. For all my talk about a death warrant, I do want to survive. I'm probably on tv right now, all over Panem. One quick glance around confirms this. A lone camera films our march to the train. I decide quickly that confidence is key to success in the hunger games, so I wave to the camera and smile, schooling my face into a calm, carefree expression. I must look great, compared to Basil, who's started screaming for help at the people who crowd around us.

If all my opponents are like him, this thing'll be a cinch.

The train's in view now. It looks nothing like I've ever seen before. It's dark blue with silver stripes painted onto it. There's also about 15 carriages for some reason - though I know for a fact that there's only going to be 5 of us on the train (Glitter, Basil, the two mentors, and me). I'm not surprised, I guess. I'll be living in luxury for the rest of the week, until I'm thrown into the arena.

As I board the train, giving one final wave to the camera, I think 'may as well make the most of it.'

The doors of the train slam shut, and we begin to move. Basil plasters himself against the window, tears streaming down his face as he watches his home fade away into the background. I don't bother talking to him, instead, I try to find my quarters.

It's three carriages away - once I step in, I know this is my room. It's absolutely beautiful, I must admit. The walls have some kind of special effect on them - they're made to look like the sky. Constellations of stars glitter at me and move across the room slowly, so more and more are constantly coming into view. The moon also rotates around the walls. It's a slime crescent, and its greyish hue mesmerises me. The colour of the walls are a dark blue, as beautiful and inky as the night sky at home.

My bed is also dark blue. It's made to look like the ocean - the waves on the covers crash and flow into each other. I could watch this all day. I've never seen anything like it - the Capitol's technology looks like magic to my inexperienced eye.

I shake my head and force myself to look away - if I don't look away now, I'll be distracted for hours. There's only one more thing in my bedroom - a wardrobe. Inside it is a collection of outfits that look like perfection. They make my dress, which is covered in dirt from when I was pushed over at the reaping look terrible.

I slip on one of the simpler outfits - a black and white dress that comes down to my knees, which has a geometric pattern of squares and triangles on it.

I decide to leave my room and go see my mentor. I have a vague idea of what she's like - my mentor is the most recent district eight winner. Her name is Lacy Meadows, and she won the 58th hunger games. She won her games at age 15, one of the youngest victors ever, and is quite the celebrity in district eight. However, although she's very popular, she keeps mostly to herself. I'm not surprised, really.

She mostly won her games due to a dispute among the careers. They all got into an argument over who had killed the most people in the bloodbath, and a fight broke out. Four of the six died in that battle, and another ate a poisoned berry a few hours afterwards. The remaining career, the girl from district four, made it to the final two. That year, the arena was very mountainous and had a lot of cliffs. The district four girl, who was named Athena, was looking around for Lacy on the edge of a cliff (smart, right?). Lacy, who was hiding in the bushes, suddenly ran out and pushed her over the edge. Just like that, Athena toppled over and was killed pretty much instantly. Lacy was the victor - even though Athena had been her only kill.

Lots of mentors are haunted by their games, but Lacy seems to be pretty unaffected by it. Apart from the finale, she spent most of her time hid in a tree, subsisting off berries.

Thinking of this, I walk into the living area of the train. Like I expected, Lacy is sat there, quietly reading a book. "Uh, hi." I say, to get her attention.

She smiles at me, and motions for me to sit next to her. "Hello, you're Sara, aren't you?"

I nod.

"I'm being completely honest here Sara, okay? I believe that you have a really good chance of winning this year."

I look at her, shocked. "Why?" I ask.

"Because of how you conducted yourself at the reaping and on the way here. You seemed completely calm and collected - that's what'll get you sponsors. Plus, you're pretty, too. Your parents, I'm aware, designed the dress you're wearing today. Many Capitol citizens love your parent's clothes, and I know for a fact that since the reaping, a thousand replicas of your dress have already been sold. The Capitol already see you as one of them. They're going to be on your side. Plus, word's already got around of your intelligence. In the Capitol's eyes, you're the perfect tribute."

I'm completely taken aback by this. I knew that I wasn't going to be viewed as op the weakest tribute in the whole games, but I'm still shocked by how popular I appear to be.

Lacy starts to talk again. "Now, in terms of pre-games strategy, you're going to have to play up to your strengths. Market your confidence, your intelligence, your looks. Emphasise them. If you do this, you could be as popular as the careers!"

I feel a sudden burst of confidence. I actually have a chance of winning this thing. "Should I talk about the place I've been offered at Panem University?"

"Oh, I almost forgot about that! Of course you should - in the Capitol's eyes, you're already a citizen! Just play to your strengths, and I promise you I will try my best to bring you back alive."

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Basil watching us from the other side of the room. I make eye contact with him. The second he catches me staring, his face turns red. He looks extremely pissed off.

I have a feeling that I'm going on his hit list. The second the games begin, I intend to keep as far away from him as humanly possible. My life literally depends on it.


End file.
